


You know, do or die, it’s workable

by Taeyn



Series: I wouldn’t date him in 10,000 years [6]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Affection, Alternate Universe - College/University, Cuddling, Fluff, Intimacy, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Teasing, touch-sensitive Lotor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2019-01-07 15:10:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12235377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taeyn/pseuds/Taeyn
Summary: “Thank you,” Lotor says softly, and he grazes a kiss to the inside of Lance’s wrist. He’s quiet a moment, Lance gently skips the edge of his thumb over Lotor’s ear, feels him twitch, then slacken.“I like it when I lay on you too,” Lotor murmurs, hesitates. “I like you a great deal, Lance.”





	You know, do or die, it’s workable

**Author's Note:**

> ♡ So even though I have a huge soft spot for angst, I also really really like it when characters who have very much been at-odds, actually somehow reluctantly... start to bond…? :'3
> 
> ♡♡ The prompt for this one was pleasure/pain (~also content-note related, Lotor is a little bit tipsy for the first half, but in a silly/happy way, not an ill/messy way <3)
> 
> ♡♡♡ Thank you so much for sticking with me aaaa... :'')

“So, I was walking back from Pidge’s debating night,” Keith says loudly, and Lance brims to a slow smile, wedges the phone closer against his ear. “And now I’m here with your boyfriend.”

“Mm-hm,” Lance hums teasingly, and he flops off his bed, steps into his shoes without tying the laces. “Please tell me there are no sharp objects in sight.”

“Yeah, _no_ ,” Keith laughs, and Lance pulls a silly face even though Keith can’t see, Keith laughing again as he imagines it anyway. “But seriously,” Keith adds, lets out an amused sigh. “Words can’t even.”

Lance throws his keys in his jacket pocket, hopes Keith can’t intuit the incredibly goopy smile he’s now making in return. Keith may sound incredulous, but he also sounds _fond_ , a sentiment that has so far been the polar opposite of anything involving Lotor.

“My turn,” comes Lotor’s voice in the background, and there’s a loud fumbling, swooping noise, Keith yells a word that’s a good deal _less_ fond, and Lotor returns a low, bubbly laugh- _don’t fret, I caught it, I caught it,_ he’s saying.

“Hello, Lance,” says Lotor, deep and warm, ever so slightly blurry at the edges. “So, I happened to cross paths with your friend Red here-”

“ _See!”_ exclaims Keith, and Lance’s grin only gets wider as he hears a scuffle. From the proximity of his shout, Lance is pretty certain Lotor is holding him at arms-length from the phone.

“-and he seems to think I need a _chaperone_ , or some knight in shining armour, honestly he’s too far down for me to comprehend most of his assessments of the situation-”

“- _told you so!”_ says Keith, interrupting, and Lotor dissolves into laughter again, makes a high-pitched welp as Keith leans into the phone.

“Keith, did you just _pull his hair?_ ” Lance wipes his eyes, he’s already halfway out the door, his cheeks now aching from smiling. Lotor might be tipsy, and Keith might be the very worst person to walk him home, but they’re joking with each other, and Lance feels just about happy enough to collapse.

“So Zethrid _may_ have,” Lotor continues, “shouted me one too many… oh, what are they called? You set them on fire, very pretty. And who am I to refuse-”

Lotor pauses, tries unsuccessfully to stifle a hiccup, Lance isn’t much better at stifling an affectionate tangle of syllables in response.

“-a challenge? A mission? A bad idea?” Lance teases, and Lotor laughs at himself, holds his breath as he hiccups again. Lance can already see them at the end of the college walkway, he gives an overdramatic wave so that Lotor will notice. Keith notices first, he returns a series of gestures that makes Lance think he’s trying to assist with an emergency landing.

“-a _birthday party_ ,” says Lotor, amused, and he finally spots Lance, steps out of the lamplight as he does. “God, I missed you though,” Lotor murmurs.

Lance can hear the smile in his voice, and despite the fact Lotor almost trips over his own long legs as he strides forward, Lance’s throat gets strangely tight as he realises just how much he wants to say it too.

“I’m here,” Lance whispers, and when Lotor doesn’t answer, Lance gives a husky sort of laugh, like he’s only out of breath from the jog over.

“And this way, I get to make a big dramatic entrance and save you,” Lance adds instead, throws him a grin and spreads his arms. Lotor watches, his eyes creasing at the edges.

“Yes,” Lotor murmurs, and he nudges his cheek to Lance’s as he leans down, presses a kiss below Lance’s eye. Lance isn’t sure if that was where he was aiming, but he’s blinking enough that it doesn’t matter. Lotor’s stare lingers as he pulls back, gentle, his hand at Lance’s shoulder. Balance or no, Lance is sure Lotor can read him just fine, intuit that he was possibly about to say something far more embarrassing than _I’m here to save you_.

But, for the first time, Lance realises that he can read Lotor on just as little too.

_You already have_ , comes the look again, Lotor’s mouth softly pulling at the corners. _You already have_.

-

“Is this truly necessary?” says Lotor, he has one arm draped over Lance’s shoulders, the other over Keith’s. “I believe I’ve retained _some_ self-control.”

Lance grins, presses a kiss to the back of Lotor’s hand. In truth, he’d probably be stable enough if he’d look where he was going, but so far Lotor’s mostly been occupied with stargazing, recounting stories and affectionately trying to bite Lance’s earlobe as they walk.

“It’s necessary for me reminding you tomorrow,” Keith says dryly, but he can’t help a smirk as Lotor bumps into him on purpose, then stumbles and overcorrects, Keith quickly tightens his grip to stop him spilling onto the pavement.

“C’mon then, Self-Control,” Keith laughs, and he slows their pace as Lance pulls out his water bottle. They’ve been making him take small sips for the last hour as they walk laps around campus, Lotor insisting on showing them all the spots you can’t find during the day.

And, to his credit, he’s right. Lance never would have noticed the way the moonlight hits the boatsheds, or that someone’s knitted a hat for every lantern next to the library lawn. There’s apparently a reading group that meets after midnight in the chancellery, and Lotor even found the gate with all the engraved padlocks on it, which Lance thought was just a story swapped between first-years.

“So is the other part of the myth true too, then?” says Lance, enchanted, and he brushes a thumb over the countless brass latches, most of the engravings too cryptic to decipher. “If you find the gate, you need to either open a lock, or leave one?”

Lotor gazes at him, adoring, he’s delighted Lance hasn’t seen it before.

“Not a lock,” Lotor murmurs, weaves his fingers through Lance’s and slouches against the gate. “The tradition is, you either need to decode a _message_ , or leave one.”

“What about this,” says Keith, and he squints at one of the rustier padlocks. “ _Scire aut mori_ \- to know or die.”

Lance’s expression quirks in surprise, the engraving is so faded that he can’t even make it out. Keith shrugs, gives Lance an oddly self-conscious grimace.

“Yikes, well that’s awesome,” Lance says sincerely. The closer he looks at the padlocks, the less any of them look like roman characters at all.

“ _Vincere aut mori,_ ” Lotor murmurs after a second, thoughtful, and he nods toward a second lock, not too far from Keith’s. “To conquer or die.”

There’s a small silence, before Lance blinks in astonishment, completely impressed with the both of them.

“Well jeez,” he laughs, gently wraps Lotor’s arms around his front. “I think I’m still more of a _carpe diem_ myself, but you know, do or die, it’s workable.”

Lotor breathes out a laugh, warm and floppy in Lance’s embrace. He rests his jaw on the top of Lance’s head, then yawns and mumbles an apology, his head droops down to Lance’s neck as he smiles. Lance catches Keith’s eye and Keith smiles too, rolls his eyes and drags Lotor’s arm back over his shoulders.

“I saw that,” Lotor hums sleepily. “And I’m rolling my eyes _far_ more pointedly on the inside.”

They take a few steps before Lance pauses, unwraps himself from Lotor’s other side.

“One second,” he says, looks from Lotor to Keith, Lotor lowers his head as he understands.

Lance pulls free a thread from his jacket, quickly weaves it through the gate and ties it in several loops, he remembers the knot far easier when he’s not trying to.

“Are you going to make a wish?” Keith asks softly, and he doesn’t even sound teasing, buries his free hand in his pocket and waits.

“No,” says Lance, mouth hitching at the corners as he smiles. In the dark, his knot looks like a tiny snowflake, Lance only has to step back and he can barely see it at all. “I just want to remember.”

-

“It’s lovely, Lance,” Lotor murmurs, his voice sincere as he takes in the room. He doesn’t move as he does, arms loose at his sides and washed hair dampening his shoulders, Lance’s bathtowel scrunched in one hand. Lotor’s gaze travels from the milk-crate shelves to the stack of old records Keith uses as a coffee table, the postcards looped across the ceiling from coloured string.

“Ohh, we just recycle like we mean it,” says Lance, cheeks prickling warm as he clears his throat. Lotor pinches his nose as a droplet of water escapes his hair, then has to do it again immediately after, he smiles as Lance can’t not-stare.

“Keith’s going to crash in Hunk’s room,” Lance says shyly, and he shuffles to the wall-side of his bunk as Lotor gives a rare sniffle. “And… I... kept your spot warm?”

Lance has a feeling his boyfriend would stand in the doorway all night without an invitation, and Lotor looks nothing but charmed as he hears it, carefully pads over as Lance holds out his arms. Lance laughs, Lotor’s all long limbs and drippy hair as he navigates the mattress, his knees and the heels of his hands finding all the places where Lance isn’t sprawled beneath the quilt.

“My spot’s always warm,” says Lotor, coy, and he tugs Lance back to the middle of the bed, sinks his head against Lance’s chest instead of the pillow. Lance lets out a slow breath, feels Lotor’s weight ease against him, heavy and soothing. When Lance dares to peek down, he sees Lotor peering back up at him, his smile lopsided with half his face squashed into Lance’s middle.

“I like it when you lay on me,” Lance ventures, and he gathers the bathtowel from Lotor’s fingers, squeezes it inch by inch over Lotor’s hair. Lotor closes his eyes as he does, shoulders lifting with an inhale. He shivers and it takes him by surprise, Lance smiles and tucks him closer in the blankets, parts his hair into sections to squeeze them all again.

“Thank you,” Lotor says softly, and he grazes a kiss to the inside of Lance’s wrist. He’s quiet a moment, Lance gently skips the edge of his thumb over Lotor’s ear, feels him twitch, then slacken.

“I like it when I lay on you too,” Lotor murmurs, hesitates. “I like you a great deal, Lance.”

Lance stills, then leans his head forward, presses his cheek to Lotor’s brow. Lotor untangles an arm from the blankets, fingers loose and halting as he reaches.

“May I kiss you?” Lotor whispers, and Lance cups Lotor’s hand to his cheek, covers it tightly with his own.

“You don’t have to ask,” says Lance, his voice is so low he can barely hear it. They’ve cuddled before, stayed up whole nights watching movies, fallen asleep twined in each other's arms. But it’s different, having Lotor here in his own room, his own bed, where he doesn’t say anything about the fact his feet are half spilling over the mattress, there are zero hairdryers and multiple alien life forms coexisting in Lance’s coffee mug.

It’s different, because for once, the dorm actually feels like home.

“-mnhm,” Lotor mumbles, his exhale warm at Lance’s fingertips. “But forgive me if I do.”

He kisses Lance’s palm first, teeth catching at the inside of Lance’s thumb, mouth sharp and lingering. He means it to be tender, and when Lance lets out a gasp, Lotor’s eyes widen in alarm.

Lance blushes swifter than he’d like, returns a helpless grin as Lotor’s smile slowly pulls uneven.

“Ah,” says Lotor, affectionate, and he rests his chin back on Lance’s chest, touches his lips to Lance’s knuckles instead. “Again?”

When Lance can only nod, Lotor traces a fingernail over the curve of Lance’s wrist, Lance’s eyebrows tip upward at the centre as his skin prickles.

“oh _h-_ ” Lance falters, and it’s about all he can manage, Lotor arching over him at the sound. He meets Lance’s gaze, lips parted and eyes dark, his smile fond and curious as Lance has to catch his breath.

And then Lance leans up, cages both hands to Lotor’s face as Lotor’s mouth falls ajar, his lashes flicker in surprise. Lance splays his fingers through Lotor’s damp hair, an aching sort of hiss escaping Lotor’s throat as he does. Lance kisses him, deep and tangled, his nose squashed against Lotor’s cheek and his teeth at his lower lip.

“-aah- _h_ ,” Lotor whispers, and he sounds almost anguished, eyes squeezed and mouth snared as he kisses Lance back. Lance can feel him seize, mouth torn and grave and longing, Lance’s fingers trace the line of his jaw, follow down the dip of his throat. He can see the silhouette of Lotor’s shoulders, tense and broad, his arms suddenly trembling as Lance runs his hands over Lotor’s back. Lotor gives a sharp twitch, sucks a breath through his teeth as his body stiffens, he ducks his head down but Lance sees him wince.

Lotor shakes his head, overwhelmed, and Lance’s hands fly to his mouth, his eyes watering in concern.

“You haven’t hurt me,” Lotor whispers, he can sense how pained he must look. Lance tries to swallow so he can speak- if Lotor has some injury, or some scar he shouldn’t have touched...

“No, please, it’s alright,” Lotor breathes, and he manages a smile, takes Lance’s hand and clasps it to his chest. “I didn’t realise- I’m just not used-”

Lance lets out the breath he was holding, leans into Lotor’s heartbeat when neither can find the words.

“-to being touched?” Lance whispers eventually. In every way he can, he wants Lotor to know it’s okay.

Lotor sips a breath, far less shaky as he lets it out.

“-to feeling,” he says quietly, “the way that I do when you’re here.”

Lance feels a tear slip from one eye, then the other. Lotor’s mouth crumples, and despite the fact that Lance is smiling, he quickly smudges his thumb over Lance’s cheeks, ever less steady as he tries to be tender.

“I used to think,” Lance whispers, he’s tearing-up worse and worse for all of Lotor’s comforting, keeps confusing him by smiling in between. “That if I finally believed something, it would stop believing in me. Or if I said how much I care-”

Lance squints, gulps a small breath.

“That I wouldn’t be there waiting for you?” says Lotor, his chest rises beneath Lance’s hand, he looks harsher than he sounds. Slowly, Lotor draws him upright, steady and unblinking.

“I already am,” he says, and his voice has a gravity that pulls into Lance’s core, stings in his throat. Lotor leans into Lance’s embrace, there’s an uncharacteristic scrape to his calm. His fists clench Lance’s shirt, reassuring, or fiercely holding on.

“I will always believe in you, Lance,” says Lotor, and his voice doesn’t waver, his stare bright and severe. “All or nothing,” he whispers. “Do or die.”

-

**Author's Note:**

> many many thanks to LainaFantasy for helping with my Latin translations in this, it means the world to me!! ♡♡♡
> 
> tysm for reading! :'> comments & kudos are always adored and appreciated, or say hello/make friends/yell at me about Lotor [@sillyshiro on tumblr~!](http://sillyshiro.tumblr.com/) <3


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